


Speechless

by PyrophobicDragon



Category: Dragalia Lost (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-10-06 22:23:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20514464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PyrophobicDragon/pseuds/PyrophobicDragon
Summary: Modern AU. There are a lot of things that Curran wants to say and not a lot of times that he says them.





	Speechless

Curran leaned against a wooden fence and watched with mild bemusement as Heinwald bent over a plant, scribbling away in one of his journals. Earlier that day, Heinwald had barged into his room and said without even a hello, “Let’s go to the botanical gardens.”

“Let’s not,” Curran had replied. “Remember when we went to the museum and it took us four hours to get through one hallway and then they kicked us out because closing time?”

“It won’t be like that this time,” Heinwald assured him. “It’s outside, after all. It’ll be...like a hike. You enjoy outdoors activities like that, don’t you?”

Curran had eventually agreed. He did like hiking, and he could hardly turn Heinwald down if he wanted to go outside and get some exercise by his own free will for once. Actually, he could never quite bring himself to refuse to follow Heinwald out on one of his trips despite how much he complained about them. It was always...nice? watching him amuse himself. Nice wasn’t quite the word. Fun? Endearing?

Anyways, that was how he ended up here, at the botanical gardens, watching Heinwald somehow bend time so that he could spend both ten minutes examining each plant closely yet also go rushing off after something else that caught his fancy in seconds.

The gardens boasted not only the typical labeled flowerbeds but also short hiking trails that lead through the nearby forest. As he waited for Heinwald to finish up his examination of a sword fern, he wandered over to the stone and wooden signboards and read about forest succession and donations from the local government. He spotted something that caught his amusement and pointed at the sign. “‘Tree garden?’ Isn’t that a fancy word for ‘forest’?”

Heinwald looked up from his fern towards him. He chuckled. “I suppose you are right.”

“At what the fuck is a ‘ravine experience’ supposed to be?” Curran asked, pleased to have Heinwald’s attention again.

“Perhaps we should go find out,” Heinwald replied, eyes bright. Without waiting for a reply, he set off along the woodchip path in the direction the sign was pointing, walking briskly enough that his camera and binoculars began bouncing against his chest and each other, clack-clack-clacking away. Curran had to jog to catch up to him.

“Want me to carry those for you?”

“No need,” Heinwald dismissed him with a wave. But then he shot Curran a smile. “Thank you, though.”

The ravine experience turned out to be a long suspension bridge over a deep ravine cut into the earth, with a trickle of water at the bottom. Heinwald stepped onto it first, immediately heading over to the middle to lean over the railing and look down at the bottom of the ravine. So of course Curran had to stand on one end and start rapidly shifting his weight back and forth, making the bridge sway back quickly enough to alarm even himself.

Heinwald’s head whipped up so fast that his ponytail hit his face. “You are a horrible man and I am going to throw you into that ravine!” 

“Good luck with that. You can’t even lift a chair!” Curran called back, but he stopped and walked on the still-swaying bridge over to his friend. Heinwald grinned at him brightly, but then the grin faded into a spark of inspiration, making Curran freeze in his tracks. That was a dangerous look.

“What are you--”

“Come over here,” Heinwald ordered, walking over to the other end of the bridge. Confused, Curran followed.

When they reached the other end, Heinwald pointed at the ground. “Stand right over there,” he said, already attempting to untangle his camera from his binoculars. Curran obeyed, but he frowned.

“What? What do you want from me?”

“Stand just the way you were just standing--cock one leg, with your overcoat over your shoulder--perfect. And stop smiling.”

Curran followed his orders the best he could, already feeling the heat of a blush rising up his neck. “I don’t know what either of us are doing. I’m no model…”

Heinwald was already aiming his camera at him. “You’re handsome enough to be one. Stop talking.”

He was struck speechless. 

A few clicks later, Heinwald hummed in approval as he looked at the photos he took. “Wonderful. My apologies for the impromptu photo session. I’ll send them to you later; perhaps you could put them on your SNS.”

And within minutes they were walking back across the bridge towards the gardens proper as if nothing had even happened. Halfway across, Curran couldn’t help but stop and laugh. At Heinwald’s curious look, he shook his head and said, “That really came out of the left field. Can’t believe I just stood there and let you take a picture of me in front of a bridge, no questions asked.”

“It is a little questionable, how much you’re willing to put up with. But I assure you, it is an excellent picture.” Heinwald was grinning at his feet.

Curran reached over and tried to ruffle his hair. Didn’t really work, since his hair was tied back. All he did was kinda pat his head. He was going to say something, something like  _ it’s only when it comes to you _ or  _ I don’t put up with this from anyone else, you know, _ but that would be too telling. So he settled for, “You’re such a dumbfuck.”

_ “Pardon me.” _

He sounded so affronted he couldn’t help but laugh again.

***

As soon as they got back home, Heinwald disappeared into his room. A few minutes later, Curran’s phone buzzed with a text message containing the pictures Heinwald took of him at the bridge. He could hardly bring himself to look at them. He hated looking at pictures of himself. He always either had a stupid lopsided smile or some serious resting bitch face that made it look like he was trying too hard to be cool.

He had an Instagram, which he mostly used to keep track of what other people in his social circle were up to and to post pictures of pretty scenery or of their pets. His profile picture was still the same one he added several years ago when he made the account. It was a picture of him standing in front of a beautiful cathedral, except it was mostly of the cathedral, so he himself was a tiny black smudge in the bottom middle of the picture.

After much debating, he selected one of the pictures Heinwald took and switched out his profile picture. Then he closed the app, already feeling embarrassed. 

When he looked up again, Heinwald had reentered the living room, holding a printout. He walked over to the mirror hanging above the fireplace and stuck a piece of tape to it, sticking the picture on as well. Their mantle was filled with knick knacks and photographs, but sticking to the mirror made Curran stand head and shoulders above the other, lesser photos.

Curran scowled at him and said, “You are not sticking that there,” despite the fact that Heinwald was already firmly pressing down to make sure it wouldn’t go anywhere.

Heinwald turned his head and stuck his tongue out at him. “It’s my house. I do what I want.”

“Fuck you. At least put one of your own up there.”

He got a smirk on response. With a flourish, Heinwald pulled another printed picture from his pocket and held it out for Curran to see. Sure enough, it was a picture of himself. One that Curran took, a candid of him riding the giant ferris wheel on the pier, looking out the glass window towards the water, with the setting sun illuminating his face and glinting off his glasses. Curran remembered seeing him and scrambling for his phone, unwilling to let a golden moment fade into memory. Another photo from that day, a selfie of the two of them in the ferris wheel car, was still his phone background.

Heinwald said, “If I only put you up there, it would look unbalanced. So, ergo! You, and me, and I also have a picture of the cat and of Nyarlathotep.”

Curran couldn’t help but grin. “Family portrait, huh? Cute.”

With Curran’s implicit approval, Heinwald went back to taping shitty printed pictures onto the several-hundred-dollar antique mirror. “I thought so too.”

Curran watched him arrange the pictures to his liking. Thought about saying something about how much it meant to him that Heinwald accepted the family moniker for them, two friends living together in a huge empty home with a cat and a lizard. But he didn’t say anything.

***

They were watching TV together a few hours later. Or rather, they were sitting on the stupidly fancy white leather couch together, both poking away at their phones while the TV played in the background and one of them occasionally commented on what was going on.

Curran shut the browser app and opened up Instagram, aiming to look at pictures of Mikoto’s cat and maybe post a picture of their own pets. Much to his surprise, he had several messages. Most of them were from friends; all of them said something like  _ Hey, nice new profile pic! _ usually with some variation of  _ you look good/you look like a douchebag/when was the last time you changed your pic lol _ .

One of them was not from anyone that he knew. It was a pretty simple  _ heyyy I like your pfp :) Follow me back? _ He admittedly had to squint at it a little before it hit him. He laughed and elbowed Heinwald. “Check it out. I changed my Instagram profile picture with one of the ones you took and some random girl messaged me to flirt.”

Heinwald leaned over to look. After a moment of silence, he asked, “Are you going to message her back?”

“Nah, probably not.” He fired off a few generic messages of thanks for their friends, adding in a line about how  _ Heinwald took it for me haha. _

“Why not?”

“Not really looking for any relationships right now, let alone one from a random DM.” It was a simple explanation, and one that was true enough to not register on Heinwald’s bullshit meter. He could’ve turned it into a joke, say something about how  _ why would I need a girlfriend when I have you, _ but he couldn’t.

Heinwald only hummed in response.

The episode they were watching ended and a new one began. Suddenly, Curran felt a warm weight against his side. He glanced down at Heinwald, who had suddenly scooted himself to him. “What are you doing?” he asked, more out of curiosity then anything.

“I’m cold.”

“You’re cold?!” He laughed. “You’re wearing pajamas, a onesie, and a blanket, and you’re still cold?”

Heinwald harrumphed, and Curran felt a little bit guilty for laughing at him. Heinwald did tend to run cold, which was part of the reason why he always wore so many layers. But Curran himself was wearing little more than a loose white tee and shorts, and the house was a perfect ambient temperature, so maybe Heinwald was coming down with something.

“Want me to turn up the thermostat?” he offered.

Heinwald just snuggled in closer to his side. “No, it’s not worth it. I’ll just steal your body heat.”

“Okay. Gimme some of your blanket.” After some shuffling, he was underneath the blanket along with Heinwald for a more optimal heat-sharing experience. He would no doubt be uncomfortably stuffy in half an hour, but it was fine. He could take off his shirt if it came to that.

“Hmm. My thanks,” Heinwald murmured once they had both gotten settled.

“Don’t worry about it,” he replied, wrapping one arm around his shoulders. 

***

Curran returned home later to find that their living room smelled like an apartment inhabited exclusively by frat boys determined to never spend a moment sober. He almost dropped his backpack on his toes when he turned the corner and spotted Heinwald. He was lounging on one of the armchairs, wearing his velvet dressing gown around the elbows and scrunched around his lap, exposing his thin chest and shoulders. His bare legs were tucked up and to the side underneath him. He was staring off into space, face flushed as red as his eyes. Well, at least he wasn’t actively drinking, but that might have been because the bottle he was drinking out of was on its side on the floor.

“Heinwald, what the hell?"

His eyes slid over to meet his. They were dull and unfocused. He smiled a smile that was more of a grimace. "Welcome back!" he slurred.

"Just how much did you have to drink, you idiot?" Curran walked closer, already rolling up his sleeves, but he hesitated. Usually he had no problem with picking up Heinwald and dragging him into bed, but it felt...inappropriate to manhandle Heinwald when he was…

While he was facing his little dilemma, Heinwald took advantage of his hesitation to wiggle out of his chair and get up. With the way he was sitting, the robe fell down naturally to preserve his modesty (was he even wearing underwear? Or was he completely--) but he still had it practically falling off his torso, caught on his elbows. He stumbled over to the fireplace in that state, and stood in front of the mirror, swaying lightly on his feet. He said, "You...you are so handsome. A...a Beautiful Person. Like...the Fitzgeralds. No, wait. Wrong era."

"Huh?" Heinwald was skin and bones. He could see his shoulder blades casting sharp shadows against his purple skin, every individual bump of his spin as it disappeared underneath his robe. Curran was finding it hard to tear his eyes away from his bare back, even though he had seen Heinwald shirtless before, caught glimpses of him changing, or at the hot springs.

Heinwald continued his rambling, thankfully oblivious to his thoughts. “Beauty is very strongly associated with goodness. The world over. Handsome knight. Ugly witch. Beautiful, virtuous daughter. Ugly, greedy son. ‘If a person has ugly thoughts, it begins to show on the face. The face gets uglier and uglier until you can hardly bear to look at it. A person who has good thoughts cannot ever be ugly.’” He wasn’t slurring as much anymore. No matter how drunk he was, if he found a subject to pontificate upon, his tone always became clearer. He was a natural-born lecturer, Curran thought.

And, like any good teacher, Heinwald ended his lecture with his thesis. "Perhaps that is why you look like you and I look like me.” 

He threw his head back laughed and laughed and laughed, not the high-pitched giggles or the low chuckles but something that originated from the bottom of his throat, croaky and wheezy. Curran stared at the clearly displayed the seam where the purple of his torso met the pale skin of his head and the long lines of his throat and thought of everything he wanted to say.

_ You’re just saying that because you’re drunk. No, you are too. You’re gorgeous. You’re beautiful. You’re so damn sexy it’s driving me insane. _ He wanted to press his lips against Heinwald's shoulder. He wanted to run his tongue against his stitched-up scars. He wanted to bite down on the column of his throat. He wanted to tell him everything that he was thinking, beg him to help him make sense of the cross-purposes of his flaring lust and his burning desire to elevate Heinwald’s self-esteem issues.

He couldn’t do it. He was frozen in time and space. It took him a monumental amount of effort to tear his gaze away from Heinwald's bare back and look up.

He locked eyes with Heinwald in the mirror.

A second later, Heinwald dropped his eyes, leaving Curran to wonder if he noticed. If he saw him being so captivated by just a tease. If he'll remember the gaze in the morning.

But instead of asking about it, as sober Heinwald would've done, he reached out and fingered the corner of the picture. His other hand was now clinging to the mantle, probably for support--he was swaying so much, he looked like he would fall over any second. And then he started singing.  _ "All that grace, all that body, all that face, makes me wanna party…"  _ He dissolved into giggles.

Curran wanted to laugh, too, at the absurdity of it all. In the familiar comfort of their vitriolic dynamic, he finally found a voice. "If  _ you  _ say you ‘wanna party’, I think it's a sign for you to go to bed." 

_ “He’s my sun, he makes me shine, like diaaaaamonds…”  _ He had such a lovely singing voice. He wanted to tell him that too. Like everything else, he didn’t.

“Up and at ‘em.” Curran firmly pushed aside the swirling miasma of his thoughts for later and came up behind Heinwald who, he noticed, was looking at him through the mirror again. Gently tugging on his shoulder, he coaxed Heinwald away from the fireplace. Heinwald’s hand clung to the mantle, then let go, flailed about, and eventually landed on Curran’s shoulder. Even holding onto him, he immediately fell over face-first against his chest.

Curran sighed. He took a moment to tug Heinwald’s robe up and back over his shoulders, covering him up again. He then leaned down and scooped up Heinwald’s legs by the crook of his knees, supporting his back with his other arm, carrying him bridal-style. “Your legs are sweaty,” he complained as he easily made his way towards the stairs with his precious cargo.

Heinwald didn’t reply. He only buried his face into Curran’s neck. And by the time they reached the second floor landing, he was fast asleep.

Curran reached Heinwald’s bedroom without incident. It took him a few tries to elbow on the light, but it was worth it to help him avoid the piles of books on the floor, which he stepped over carefully en route to the bed. He set Heinwald down and took off his glasses and his hearing aid. Normally, he would take off the robe, too. But normally, Heinwald was wearing clothes underneath. He set the glasses and the hearing aid down on the bedside table and quietly left the room without looking back.

It was still only about ten-thirty at night. But he went to bed early, and stared up at the ceiling, not thinking about everything he wanted to say and do.

***

Curran woke up the next morning hard. In the groggy post-waking haze, his first thought was  _ looks like I’m skipping morning prayer today. _

He rolled out of bed and slouched off to the shower. He had the vaguest notions of a screaming cold shower, but when he got in, he turned the faucet to the warmer setting. As soon as he wrapped a hand around his dick, his imagination began running wild.

Walking up to Heinwald sprawled all over an armchair. Dragging his tongue over endless swaths of pale and purple skin. Love bites, kiss bruises, leaving his own marks onto whatever unscarred flesh he could find. Watching that expressive face contort with pleasure, pressing his fingers, no, sliding his dick into his warm, tight ass or seeing it get enveloped by his snarky little mouth, getting him to finally shut up for once or having his biting words replaced with moans of pleasure.

He groaned as he came, the sound of it echoing off the walls of the shower, drowned out immediately by the water.

He stumbled out of his shower, got dressed, and went downstairs. Heinwald had somehow found or maybe nicked a pair of sunglasses from him and was currently wearing them, sitting on the same armchair in the same robe with his feet propped up on the coffee table. He was wearing clothes underneath this time, thank Goddess. He was drinking from one of the metal gold pineapples they found at their house one time that all of their friends denied owning or leaving at their place.

Curran hesitated. He was hoping that Heinwald was still asleep so he could sneak out and avoid having to carry a conversation while thinking of the way he came less than an hour ago thinking of him. But Heinwald would notice it even more if Curran tried to go past him without checking up on him. “Heinwald?” 

“Good morning, my friend,” Heinwald said cheerfully. “I feel like death!” Then he slurped his drink.

“What are you drinking?” asked Curran warily, his concern quickly overcoming his lingering embarrassment. It was hard to tell if this manic energy meant that Heinwald was still in a bad mood or not. If he was, he wouldn’t put it past him to try and cure his hangover with even more alcohol. He walked over and took the pineapple from Heinwald and took an experimental sip.

“It’s what’s left of the coconut water Verica brought but both of us hate, that disgusting soda you drink, that free boxed apple water we got, a can of pineapple juice, the syrup from a tin of mandarins, some of your protein powder, and those chewable dinosaur vitamins you make me eat like a child.” Heinwald informed him right as he took his sip. “I ate the mandarins for breakfast,” he then added, as if that would make things better.

His drink tasted as disgusting as that description implied, mostly from the overwhelming sweetness and clashing fruitiness, but there wasn’t even a hint of alcohol smell or taste, so Curran handed it back. Might as well let Heinwald drink his cavity in a pineapple; at least it had vitamins and protein. Heinwald took another overly-happy sip, but paused halfway through when Curran asked, “What made you lose your fucking mind like that last night?” He winced a little to himself. He was planning on easing into it, maybe making his usual joke about how  _ I wouldn't make you eat those vitamins like a child if you ate nutritious food like an adult _ but apparently his dual desires to take care of Heinwald's trouble and his desire to get the hell out of here teamed up and kicked that idea to the curb together.

Heinwald dropped his gaze and swallowed his mouthful. He toyed with the straw in the pineapple before settling on saying, “It is nothing you can help me with.”

Curran easily backed down. “Okay. But you know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

“Indeed. I do." Heinwald looked up at him again and gave him a small smile. "That won’t mean that I will, but I appreciate the offer.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s understandable.” There are things that he, too, won’t ever confide to Heinwald. Which is why… “I’m heading to church. Want anything while I’m out?”

“If I think of something, I’ll text you.”

Curran nodded and grabbed his backpack. As he was about the turn the corner from their living room to head for the front door, he paused. Steeled himself. Turned around. “By the way…”

Heinwald visibly stiffened. “Hm?”

“I think you’re beautiful.” 

Before he could see Heinwald’s reaction, he turned around and walked away.

***

Curran wasn’t the sort of religious who went to church every Sunday. In his opinion, the Goddess could hear you no matter where you were. But sometimes he sought the clarity he could always find sitting on a church pew.

No one was inside the main room when he entered. Despite that, he sat down on an aisle seat near the back, setting his bag on the floor behind him. He stared off into space as he tried to sort out his own mind.

Namely, what the hell was he doing? What the hell were  _ they _ doing?

In the silent room, with the podium up front and the glass image of the Goddess smiling beatifically down at it, it was easier for him to answer those questions honestly.

He was attracted to Heinwald. He had been, for a long time. This morning, he had jerked off thinking about him. And then he told him that he was beautiful. 

Heinwald had called him handsome last night. And beautiful. And said that he was a good person? He had called him handsome, too, when he took his picture in the gardens. He had been looking at the same picture last night. Maybe he was thinking back to that impromptu photo shoot?

He was starting to regret leaving before seeing Heinwald’s reaction. He was starting to regret not saying everything he wanted to say. He was starting to regret falling in so deep with Heinwald.

Because Heinwald was his best friend. They had a private detective agency together. They lived together. They knew each other better than anyone else. And now they were teetering on the edge of something that Curran had never experienced and it was making his head spin and his stomach tight with something that was indistinguishable between nervousness and excitement.

He sat there for a long time, writing and revising a prayer in his head asking for Her guidance and wisdom and forgiveness. He left the church without any answers.

***

Heinwald was sitting on his bed and watching him.

“Don’t just sit there, help me,” Curran grumbled as he folded up a shirt and stuffed it into his suitcase next to a neatly-wrapped box.

“No. I’m reading,” he said even though his book was clearly closed.

“Then you’re the first human truly capable of reading via osmosis.”

“Don’t be a fool, Curran. Osmosis is for water only. You’re thinking of diffusion.”

“Listen, I haven’t thought about biology class in ten years.”

He was heading to his grandparents’ house for Dragonyule. That meant some serious suitcase Tetris had to happen to fit in all of the presents he was bringing along with enough clothes to tide him over for the few days he’ll be gone. That also meant he wasn’t going to see Heinwald for a few days. But it was fine. He wasn’t worried about him. He wasn’t worried about him last year, either, or the year before that, or any of the other years he left him behind for Dragonyule.

A thought occurred to him. “You know? We’ve never actually spent a Dragonyule together.” They gave each other gifts before Curran left on his annual trip, and Curran liked to drag Heinwald to all of the Dragonyule-themed celebrations the city or their friends hosted. But despite their long partnership, he had never seen Heinwald on the actual day of Dragonyule. 

When Heinwald hadn’t replied for a moment, Curran glanced up at him, puzzled. He was looking at his hands, entwined neatly on his lap. He swallowed and said, oddly quiet, “Perhaps I’ll...perhaps I’ll come with you next year. To your family gathering.”

Curran sat back on his haunches. He had an inkling he was missing something here. “Oh yeah? What makes next year different from this year?”

Heinwald shrugged. “We’ll see.” 

Curran narrowed his eyes at him, but Heinwald only blinked innocently back in response. “All right then. Keep your damn secrets.”

A few hours later, all packed and waiting, his phone buzzed. He checked it and said, “My parents are here.”

“Do I need to go out and greet them?” asked Heinwald.

“Nah, it’s fine. Stay inside, it’s cold out there.” He got up from the couch and Heinwald mirrored him. There was a brief, awkward moment of hesitation, then Curran leaned forward and gave Heinwald a hug. “See you in a week. Good luck finding your present.” It was a stupid, but a fun game they played whenever Curran gave Heinwald a present: he would hide it somewhere, and Heinwald would track it down and try to guess what it was before the deadline of Dragonyule Day or the end of his birthday or whatever.

“I won’t need luck. I already have a few ideas about where you hid it.” Heinwald hugged him back, then released him and backed away. “Goodbye. Have fun.”

“Will do.” Curran left him behind in the living room. His suitcase was by the front door already, and he pulled on his shoes and headed out to get into the car.

Five minutes later, when they were halfway down the massive road that led up to Heinwald’s mansion, his phone buzzed with a text. 

_ Found it. Really? The oven? _

_ I was thinking that you didn’t even know where the kitchen was. Do you have any guesses as to what it is yet? _

_ Of course. But I won’t tell you my hypotheses until I’ve had a chance to examine the evidence. _

_ Good luck~ _ He had added in some red herrings this year to make it harder for Heinwald to guess what it is. Namely, he had put it inside another box and added in a wooden block that rattled when the box moved. Would it be enough? Probably not. Heinwald probably already guessed he would do something like this.

“Who are you texting, son?” Curran looked up to meet his dad’s eyes in the rearview mirror. 

“Just Heinwald. I hid his Dragonyule present and he found it already.” His father was looking at him as he waited for the passing cars to clear. Curran held himself deliberately still. One of the mistakes their suspects always made was trying to cover up their lies by adding in too much unasked for detail. And in his case, calling Heinwald “just” felt close enough to a lie that he felt compelled to elaborate, explain that Heinwald was basically his only close friend, and it was a stupid game they played, mostly for Heinwald’s amusement. But he stayed quiet and let his father scrutinize him until his mom rescued him.

“How nice,” his mom said absently. Then she abruptly changed the subject. “So, have you decided when you’re getting married?”

“Mom--!”

***

If Dragonyule was for family, New Year's was for friends. Their friend Euden liked to have a massive party for all of his friends to get together and dance and eat and drink the night away. And he had a lot of friends to invite over.

"Hey, thanks for coming!" Euden said warmly when Curran stumbled across him in the kitchen. He was tearing open massive bags of chips that would be demolished by the end of the night. 

"No problem. We--" Curran glanced over his shoulder, expecting Heinwald to be there. But he had somehow disappeared. He tried to hide his surprise, continuing, "Uh, thanks for inviting us."

"Us? Is Heinwald here?" Euden glanced around, as if expecting to see Heinwald pop out of one of the chip bags.

His confusion was understandable. Heinwald was usually Curran's second shadow at parties because Curran was the one who forced him to make an appearance. He was friendly with everyone, but he was a bit...intense, and it was always better if Curran was there to smooth things over between him and the rest of the world.

"He's here somewhere," Curran shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. "Probably got sidetracked talking to one of the science folks. You know how he gets."

Euden laughed. Then he got called away by yet another friend looking to speak with him, leaving Curran alone to worry.

Heinwald had been acting funny today. More subdued than normal. He didn't put up as much of a fight when they were getting ready to leave, and he was pretty quiet on the trip over. He had responded to Curran's ribbing perfectly well, which is why Curran didn't get worried enough to press him about it, but he didn't really steer the conversation the way he usually did. At the time he had assumed he was preoccupied with a problem, but now he was regretting not asking him about it.

Normally, he would've grabbed a snack or something to sip on and mingled a bit, but now he had a case: the case of the missing partner.

Heinwald wasn't in the kitchen. He wasn't in the living room. He wasn't on the porch or on the patio and he wasn't in the backyard, and he still wasn't in any of those places when Curran checked the second time or the third time, wondering if he had somehow missed Heinwald or if he had wandered into one of those places while he was out searching other places. And no matter how many people he asked, no one had so much as seen him. Their reactions were always along the lines of, "Wait, he came to the party?” or, in Luca’s case, “Are you sure you didn’t leave him at home?”

Curran stared at him. “Dude, we drove here together.”

“Oh, right. He can’t drive.”

Curran just shook his head and left him behind.

The frustrating thing about this situation was that he had a strong feeling Heinwald was deliberately hiding from everyone. And he was very, very good at hiding from people when he wanted to be.

He eventually gave up and tried to enjoy the party. He ate some food, talked to some friends, played some video games, and got a lot of compliments on the new expensive boots Heinwald gave him for Dragonyule. But his thoughts kept on wandering towards Heinwald.

Several hours later, he finally found him.

On a tip from Pia, no less. Apparently the kiddos were playing hide-and-go-seek, and then one of them had spotted a dark shadow on one of the third floor balconies. They had freaked out, thinking it was a ghost, but Lowen had gotten a pair of binoculars for Dragonyule and whipped them out and they realized it was Heinwald. And, of course, since Curran was kinda his handler, they immediately ran about the mansion to find him.

Curran stepped out of the balcony doors. He couldn’t read any response from the line of his back, but surely Heinwald could hear him close the door behind him and the crunch of the tin layer of snow beneath his feet.

“Have you been out here the whole time?”

“I was in the attic for some time.”

Curran walked up next to him and mirrored his stance, leaning on the balcony railing. The stars were brilliant, but Heinwald was staring straight ahead instead of looking up.

He tried to be subtle as he sniffed the air, trying to figure out if Heinwald was drunk, but he wasn’t subtle enough. Or maybe Heinwald just deduced his thought process.

“I had a bit of champagne, but it was not agreeing with me.”

"How much is a bit?"

"Less than a glass.” He paused to lick his lips. Then he said, mostly addressing the cold night air, “I was planning on getting blackout drunk tonight and using that as an excuse to kiss you at midnight, but I am experiencing some physical side effects of anxiety.”

You know what? Curran could do brutal honesty. It was better than...whatever the fuck they’ve been doing for the past few weeks. Months.

So he watched Heinwald carefully out of the corner of his eye and said, “You probably could’ve kissed me sober and I would’ve let you do it.”

Heinwald sighed. “You acquiesce to my desires far too easily. Surely there must be a limit to what I can subject you to."

“I really don’t, though," Curran protested, feeling a bit offended at Heinwald's perception of him. "I’m not a pushover.”

Heinwald frowned. “You just said you would’ve allowed me to kiss you.”

Curran whipped his head around so fast it made his neck hurt. He stared at Heinwald, mouth hanging open. “You...are you fucking stupid?”

“Excuse me?” Heinwald had the fucking nerve to look affronted.

“Heinwald. Pal. Partner. Use that big brain of yours and just  _ think _ for  _ one second _ .” Curran turned to face Heinwald as well, crossing his arms and leaning one elbow on the railing. “Occam’s laser. Stop doing whatever mental gymnastics you're doing and think. What is the simplest explanation for why someone would be willing to let you kiss them?"

“It’s Occam’s  _ razor. _ Named after a friar, William of Ockham, incidentally spelled O-C-K--”

“Shut up, you fucking idiot.” Curran reached out and grabbed Heinwald’s face in his hands and pulled him in for a kiss.

The second after their lips met, he realized that he didn’t actually know how to kiss someone. Using his tongue on the first kiss seemed...a bit too much, so he held still and hoped Heinwald would have a better idea of what they were doing. Which was definitely too much to hope for, given that Heinwald was frozen in place.

After what felt like an unnecessarily long period of time and far too short for his liking, he released Heinwald and took a step back.

They stared at each other for a long moment.

Then Heinwald proceeded to turn around and throw up over the edge of the balcony.

Curran’s eyes went wide. “Holy shit!” On autopilot, he grabbed Heinwald’s ponytail in one hand, holding it so it wouldn’t get in the way, and began to rub his back with the other hand. Thankfully, it quickly devolved into retching and then stopped within moments, before shock could really register in Curran’s mind.

Heinwald straightened up with a grimace and said, “My apologies. When I said that I was anxious--”

“Holy shit, you weren’t fucking kidding.” Curran ran his hand through his hair and said, “You--are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Heinwald shut his eyes and sighed. Then he suddenly opened them wide. “I...it was not because of you. It was because of the anxiety, I assure you, nothing you did was--”

“No, I probably should’ve asked--”

They both simultaneously fell silent. Curran laughed and said, “Do you want to go first? Or should I?”

“After you, please.” Heinwald folded his arms and held onto his own elbows. It didn’t look like a defensive or an anxious posture, which Curran took as a good sign.

“Okay, um…” He paused to collect his thoughts. Then he decided--fuck it! Honesty seemed to be doing the best here. “I really like you. I can’t say when it began, but it’s been a while. And I’ve been feeling like we’re going to end up here, on the verge of a relationship change, for a while now. I kinda wish I did something earlier, but I couldn’t decide what to do but keep on...doing nothing, except for occasional boat-rocking. You’re pretty hard to read, you know. Your honesty makes it more intimidating, because it’s like--are you actually flirting? Or are you just being complimentary?” That was all he could think to say. So he ended with, “So. Um. Yeah. Your turn.”

Heinwald was smiling. A soft, sweet smile. That was probably a good sign, right? “I thought you were handsome from the second I saw you. But it wasn’t until recently that I began debating with myself if I should do anything about it. I’m unsure if I would call you hard to read, or if I am simply bad at reading people. I suspect it is the latter.”

“Hey, I have a pretty good poker face.”

“Shh. Don’t interrupt me,” Heinwald scolded him, but he was still smiling. “As I was saying, I had trouble determining if my attempts would be welcome or not. So I kept going through cycles of deciding to make an overture, second-guessing, throwing caution to the wind, then pulling back again. I apologize if it was...confusing.”

“Don’t be sorry. Oh, sorry, I did it again.” He cringed at himself.

“It’s all right,” said Heinwald. “I’ve said all I wanted to say.”

They just looked at each other, uncertain. Soon, though, Curran began to register the chill and decided to wrap this up one way or another before Heinwald froze to death. “So, um, what do you want to do now?”

“Perhaps we could go home?” Heinwald suggested.

Curran checked his watch. “It’s not even eleven. Do you want to wait til midnight? Watch the ball drop?”

“Do you?” He quirked a brow at him, and Curran smiled.

“Not at all. Let’s just go home.”

***

He woke up to the sound of his phone ringing.

Heinwald was using his left arm as a teddy bear and his shoulder as a pillow. Which meant that his whole damn arm was dead. But it was also cute that he spent several dazed seconds staring at him, wondering if last night really did happen, until he realized that his phone had stopped ringing and then started again.

He groped for it and pulled until it separated from its charging cable all by itself. He had to fumble with it for a few seconds but he finally managed to slide the little green icon across one-handed and held it up to his ear.

“Hey man.” That was Ranzal’s voice, except somehow even deeper and rougher than it normally was. Probably meant he was hung over.

“Mrrrgning.” It wasn’t until he attempted to speak that he realized that, by opening his mouth, he had let in a whole mouthful of long hair. 

“Sorry, did I wake you up?”

It took him a few seconds to clear the clinging tendrils away from his mouth. Good goddess, how did Heinwald not choke himself in the middle of the night? “Yeah, but it’s all right. I didn’t drink last night. Had to drive us home.” He couldn't help the dumb grin that spread across his face when he started to remember. Heinwald had offered to suck him off if he pulled over. Curran was so surprised he almost crashed the car, and he had to pull over because they both started laughing so hard they couldn't keep their eyes open.

“You’re better off then I am, then,” Ranzal sighed, bringing him back to reality (but a reality where Heinwald was asleep, naked, on his chest.) “Anyhoo, I’m just calling to ask--did ya ever end up finding Heinwald last night? We were all pretty worried ‘bout the two of you. No one saw hide nor hair of either of you past midnight.”

Curran licked his lips, wondering how to respond when said missing man was currently curled up with his head on his bare chest. But something made him glance down, and he found Heinwald blinking up at him sleepily. He reached up and grabbed the phone, then propped himself up on his elbow so he could press it against his good ear. “My apologies for worrying everyone, Ranzal. Curran found me, and he helped me overcome the issues that had been bothering me. Thank you for your concern. Goodbye.” Then he hung up and put the phone on the bedside table. He cuddled back into his previous position, shutting his eyes again.

Curran tore his gaze away from his face and stared up at the ceiling, overwhelmed. “So. Uh. I take it you’re okay with everyone knowing about...this? Us?”

Heinwald opened his eyes. “What?"

Curran swallowed heavily. “Well. I told Ranzal that he woke me up. And then you took my phone from me within seconds. And...Ranzy’s not a stupid guy.”

His whole body went stiff. “...Ah. My apologies. I forgot to consider…”

“Wait.” Curran tightened his arm around Heinwald’s waist, anchoring him in place. “I just...I’m fine with everyone thinking we’re an item, as long as we are...you know. Actually an item.”

“You want to...enter a relationship?”

“Well, I told you last night. I don’t want just a one-off thing. Not with you.” Oh, fuck. “I meant. Not that you’re not attractive, you’re way too fucking attractive, and if a one-night stand is all I’m getting I’d be totally down for it, but I know that’s not what this is, or at least I think it’s not, and I would vastly prefer a relationship over a fling.”

He realized he could feel Heinwald’s lips curving up against his chest. It was kinda a weird feeling, but it was good. “I feel similarly. But, I must warn you. If we begin a romantic relationship, I would aim for it to end in death rather than separation.”

He couldn’t stop himself from grinning, too, but he managed to suppress a laugh. He didn’t want Hein to think that he was laughing at him. “That’s a goth way of saying that you’re in this for life, huh? Well, I’m entering this relationship with the goal of getting married one day. How about that?”

“That sounds like a fine proposition.” He thought Heinwald would have some more to say about the whole marriage business. He didn’t realize he would be so cool with it.

“It’s a little weird that we’re immediately talking about, you know, marriage and joint graves when we had our first kiss last night, don’t you think?”

Heinwald let out an adorable little grumble. “If you still think I give a damn about weird, you should seriously reconsider how well you know me and whether you should enter a relationship with me.”

Something about the mix of the grumble and the rare swear-adjacent word and the veiled insecurity masked under a veneer of scorn made Curran smile even wider. And, just because he wanted to, just because he had Heinwald cuddled up against him in his bed, just because he finally felt that he could, he said, “You are so fucking cute.”

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing a porny bit, but it turns out I'm SUPER slow at writing porn. So that will be out as a separate fic...eventually. Hopefully.
> 
> Random headcanon: Curran and Heinwald are prep-jock/goth-nerd solidarity at its finest.


End file.
